


Party Toes

by arazialotis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arazialotis/pseuds/arazialotis





	Party Toes

Dean entered the unkempt motel room with a six pack of beer. You sat on your shared bed, finishing up a coat of clear polish on your left hand. Dean gave you space, sitting down on Sam’s bed. He cracked open a cold one and started flipping through TV channels.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders before screwing the polish shut.

“Uh oh. You got your party toes on.” He finally noticed.

You giggled while wiggling your toes back and forth. He was of course referring to your go-to polish job. A vibrant purple on your big toe, sparkles on the next, and a soft pink on the remaining three. You decided on doing your hands as well, which you typically would exclude, but you felt maybe it would give you that extra boost of needed confidence. You went uniform with your hands, each nail the soft pink.

“Guess you’re going out tonight.” He concluded.

“Why does that mean I’m going out?” You chuckled.

“You don’t put on your party toes for nothing… weddings, birthdays, clubbing…” He explained.

You nodded your head in agreement, it was mostly accurate. “But sometimes a girl just needs to feel… pretty.” You reached out your hand reexamining the first coat, and started lightly blowing them dry.

Your lips had so captured Dean, he hadn’t even realized he was running his fingers over his own. But the gesture went unnoticed as you started on your other hand.

“Dammit.” You softly cursed.

“What is it?” Dean asked concerned.

“Nothing.” You scoffed. “It’s just, I’m only now remembering why I never paint my nails.” You turned your hand to show him before wiping it all off. “Jason Pollock himself would be proud.” You tossed the tissue aside, hesitant to start again. 

Dean switched beds, sitting closer to you. “Come here.” He guided you closer.

You followed suit, unsure of where he was going. He took your hand in his and the polish brush in the other. He started lightly working on your thumb quickly moving to the next finger, brushing strokes with ease. You could hardly contain your laughter.

“If you ever tell Sam…” He threatened.

You put your free hand over your heart. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

Once he finished, he kept his hand around yours. He leaned down to lightly blow, sending a shiver down your spine. Moments pass and you both realized you had been holding hands for a few minutes too long. You pulled away, feeling calluses graze against each other.

“Impressive.” Looking at your hand, you attempted to break the tension. “Well Dean, thank you for your aid in my lousy attempt to beautify myself.” 

“Why do you keep saying shit like that?” He barked.

You laughed in shock at his bluntness.

“No I’m serious.” He insisted.

“It’s nothing…” You dismissed.

Dean sighed. “… It’s cause of that pig down at the station, isn’t it?”

“Just drop it.” You demanded standing up to find a drink.

He followed you. “He was just jealous. You realize that right? You rejected him so he didn’t want his pride to look hurt in front of his buddies. He is just a dick and that’s all he’ll ever be.”

You tried your best to ignore him but shook your head in disbelief. He caught up to you, but you refused to look at him.

“Y/N,” His hand turned your chin to meet his jade eyes. “You don’t need nail polish or make up or whatever crap they’re selling to show your beauty. Any fool with half a brain can see it radiating off you.” 

You watched his eyes dance between yours and your lips, longing for him to close the gap. The twist of the door knob broke both of your concentration. You immediately made space as Sam entered the room.

Sam, oblivious to your building heat, jumped right to the case. “So get this, Mrs. Peterson is actually related to Barry.”

Sam waited for the surprise to both register on your faces but you were both still tangled in each other’s trance. He looked between you both, trying to decipher your silent language.

You broke first, grabbing your jacket and sliding into a pair of sandals. “I’m going out… for a drink.” You left them both in silence, the only sound, the thud of the door.

“… Did I miss something?” Sam asked still lost.

Dean grabbed his as well. “I need a drink too.. We’ll follow up with the Petersons in the morning.” Dean patted Sam’s shoulder before following you out, wondering if tonight was the night he would be brave enough to act on his emotions.


End file.
